The West Wing and the Fantasy of Putting Someone in Their Place

Back in the day, I loved The West Wing, Aaron Sorkin's Bush-era drama about a Democratic administration. I enjoyed the actors (Allison Janney, Martin Sheen, Richard Schiff, and Bradley Whitford were favorites of mine). I drew energy from the show's imperfect-but-still-preferable-to-Bush progressivism. And, although I recognize Sorkin's dialogue can occasionally fall into noticeable patterns, the scripts often sizzled with whipsmart, quotable beats.

But what I really liked, what I finally decided the show was about for me, were the scenes of people being put into their place.

It became a motif. Person X (usually a guest character or antagonist, but occasionally a main cast member/protagonist) acts out in some asinine way. We have scenes of X being a know-it-all, bullying other characters, and/or espousing some overconfident ideology. Then, person Y responds in a way that punctures X's stance utterly. Sometimes it's a shouting match that Y wins. Sometimes it's a quiet, honest statement that shatters everyone. Most often it's a disappointed, half-impatient, weary lecture that knocks out the supports that X had been relying on all through the episode.

X gets put in their place.

Most of the time, the script's dramaturgy has routed our sympathies in such a way that we're happy to see X so chastened. Y says what we've all been thinking--but of course she does so with Sorkinesque rhetorical skill and direction.

I came to realize that such scenes appealed to me especially because they enacted what I wish I could do myself in life. I don't mean "express myself with TV-worthy dialogue" (though that'd be swell). I mean that the scenes featured people setting a strong boundary against someone who was over the line--and having that boundary instantly respected. The put-them-in-their-place speeches are great. But the payoff is in the chastened, deflated, and ultimately submissive reaction from the person so corrected.

The fantasy of speaking truth to power is that power listens. The dream of standing up to bullies is that bullies stop. The romance of setting boundaries with difficult people is that the people respect those boundaries.

It took me a while to realize that the fact that such fantasies didn't manifest for me personally had less to do with me (If only I had said this!) and more to do with the fact that The West Wing is a fiction. X gets put in their place--and stays there--because it's a TV show where the writers have created the character to do just that.

Most of the time, in my life at least, setting a boundary with a difficult person results in the person doubling down, reacting badly, and/or violating the boundary again. (To be honest, it's how I've reacted--childishly--when a boundary gets set against me.) Boundary-setting is not a one-time conversation but an extended effort of persistence and stubbornness. And the person in question is unlikely ever to simply back off (or, as sometimes happened in West Wing, thank you for your correction) after a single killer conversation. Perfect, effective "back off" speeches rarely happen.

Now, it is often the case that the long, unromantic work of boundary setting actually is worthwhile. Boundaries work; if nothing else, they clarify to me (the boundary-setter) what I will and will not stand for. That's a vital realization, one that illuminates my next steps. I'm happy about many of the boundaries I've worked to establish in my personal and professional life.

But I can't think of any times where a single act of responding with force or resistance in person, face to face, has felt as good as it looks on The West Wing.

More tomorrow,

JF